


Promises

by spiffingtea



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Apologies, Coda, Episode: s15e09 The Trap - Dean Winchester's Prayer Scene, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), POV Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s15e09 The Trap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22352680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiffingtea/pseuds/spiffingtea
Summary: “--- Would you have left?” Dean breathes, a little surprised at his own question. “If I’d not got there in time?”Cas pauses his inspection. He feels the stare directed at him, but Dean pointedly doesn’t meet it. Dean bows his head.“You know the answer to that already.” Cas remarks. He pauses, for so long Dean assumes the conversation is over. “What about you, Dean?”---Dean and Castiel take time to reflect on Purgatory, the Prayer, and Promises.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 23
Kudos: 226





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> I often have plenty of feelings watching any Supernatural episode, but this particular one I just *had* to process further with these two boys and their feelings. 
> 
> Thank you for gentle encouragement and initial inspiration from barebones. <3

Eileen had left. 

Dean had barely touched the memory foam of his mattress in the last day, and it takes everything in him not to just sprawl every part of him along it when he sits on the edge of it in the evening. 

Everything  _ aches _ . His body  often occasionally remembers that it's now teetering into his forties.  _ Fuck _ , it aches so much. 

Dean sighs and rubs at his wrist, starting to unclasp his watch to set aside on his bedside table. A shadow looms in his doorway, and Dean looks up. It’s Cas. 

Dean feels his shoulders ease, and feels his own smile grow. 

“Hey, Cas.” Dean murmurs. They look at each other. From the moment that Dean had pressed his hands into the back of the angel’s shoulders as they stepped through the rift, Dean insisting he go first, they’d had no moment to… reflect. Even the ride to rescue Sam and Eileen was distractedly quiet; too clouded in anticipation of what they were about to face. 

“Hi.” Is all Cas murmurs in response, gazing at Dean as though he was the only one to ever give a damn. As though the rift between  _ them _ the last few weeks, maybe even months, never existed. Were all angels made to forgive this freely? 

Hanging in this ever-eternal staring contest, Dean - with a quick shift of an aching hip - shuffles along the bed. He pats the space beside him, giving Cas a knowing look. 

Cas steps through the doorway, and gently sits in the space beside Dean. 

Dean isn’t sure how long they sit in silence like that - Cas looking at the wall as though he could see the whole bunker through it, Dean fidgeting with the strap on his watch. Despite their proximity he finds himself… hesitant, to look in Cas’ direction; as though he may have changed his mind on this gingerly rebuilt relationship. 

A hand hovers over his wrist, fingers gently closing around his skin. Dean blinks, and looks up. Cas watches him, searching.

“Go ahead,” Dean affirms and watches as Cas’ fingers tug lightly at the straps of his watch, fingertips brushing against skin. His skin, clammy, feels relief as he pulls the watch off. 

He inspects the watch in his hands, as though he’d never seen the damn thing thousands of times before. 

“--- Would you have left?” Dean breathes, a little surprised at his own question. “If I’d not got there in time?” 

Cas pauses his inspection. He feels the stare directed at him, but Dean pointedly doesn’t meet it. Dean bows his head. 

“You know the answer to that already.” Cas remarks. He pauses, for so long Dean assumes the conversation is over. “What about you, Dean?” 

Dean releases the breath he hadn’t thought to hold. He bites at the bottom of his lip. Cas was the one who had the blossom, but Chuck had Sammy, and Eileen. 

“... I-I was scared, man.” He admits. He tries - no,  _ makes _ himself look at Cas - he deserves that much; only to find Cas staring right at him. His voice loses itself in his throat for a few moments. 

“I don’t -- Sammy was in trouble, but I--” He swallows, finding himself searching, losing himself in the steadiness of Cas’ eyes. How much could - would - Cas still read minds? “I was afraid of losing you, man. Not like that. Not again.”

He studies Cas’ gaze. He prayed, he knows he prayed, that Cas heard every word - but it feels like he could spend the rest of his tentative existence desperate to explain his grief that he gave for him, his fears - and maybe, one day - his hopes. Hell, he could have died today. At least twice. 

And he and Cas would never have made any attempt at amends. 

Dean reaches, urgency welling in him, a hand pressing against the angel's arm. He was here. Cas  _ is _ here. 

Dean involuntarily leans forward, pressing his face against Cas’ shoulder - until Cas shifts and - holy fuck - Dean is burrowing into the crook of his neck. Cas wraps an arm around his shoulders, and Dean whimpers. 

“I would’ve returned if you had asked, Dean.” He hears Cas say, the bass of his chest a soothing promise. “... With an apology, of course.”

Dean’s shoulders shake in a silent laugh. He was a dumb fucking idiot, and yet it was the end of the day and they were all alive and and Cas was sat on his bed and fucking  _ holding _ him. 

Dean shakily reaches with his other hand, grasping at Cas’ free arm. 

“Promise me,” Dean mumbles against his neck, before leaning back enough to stare at Cas. “ _ Promise me _ ,” He tries again, and his voice buckles under endless blue eyes. “That you’re not gonna leave like that. Not again - ever.” 

He watches Cas’ eyes flicker across his features. Dean’s chest tightens. 

“Promise that you’ll stop me.” Cas responds, barely a whisper. 

Dean reaches for Cas, hands sliding against cotton and leaning in closer, needing to make  _ sure _ none of this was a lie; that Cas was  _ here _ , that he wasn’t about to dissipate between his fingers. 

“Okay,” Dean promises, voice cracking. Dean was done lying, done lying to Cas, done lying to  _ himself _ . 

Fingers press against stubble and Dean searches Cas, breaths close enough to mingle, eyes close enough that Dean loses himself in an ocean of blue iris; forecast calm, forecast  _ hopeful _ . 

It’s Cas. It’s fucking  _ Cas _ who leans in and seals this dancing kiss.  _ I promise _ , he affirms, in lips and fingers on his jaw,  _ I promise _ . 

Fuck it to hell, heaven and everything in between. He was in love. He was in love, and he’d finally admitted it to himself in tears only, leaning against that tree in purgatory. 

Cas was right. He was real.

_ They _ were real. 


End file.
